//------------------------------// // Ghost Train // Story: In Another Life II: Chance's Folly // by Bateman66 //------------------------------// “What do you mean by ‘get some fresh air’!?” frantically asked Jam. “Like jump out the window!?” Alistair shook his head calmly. “No, we climb through the window, crawl along the top of the train until we reach the front. Then we--” “What!?” yelled Commodore. “Are you crazy? We could die!” “Do you have any other options?” Alistair asked sarcastically, gesturing towards the passenger car door. “By the looks of it, that patrolling pony will be here in…give or take thirty seconds. So if you want to take your chances with a knife-wielding thug, be my guest.” Jam shakily shook his head. “I don’t know about this…maybe we should--” “No,” interjected Alistair, “we’re going. Now follow me.” He reached over to the passenger side window to his left and quickly unlatched the window. Pulling the handle down, he pushed the window open and was met with another cold gust of wind against his face. Ignoring it, he quickly shimmied his body and legs through the opening and disappeared into the darkness of night. “Alistair!” screamed Commodore in desperation. He ran over to the open window and looked upwards. Pushing his head and torso through the window, he used his hind legs to boost himself through the opening and likewise disappear into the night “Oh man…” moaned Jam as he slowly approached the window. Looking back at the sliding passenger door, he imagined the hostile pony casually approaching the door, completely unknowing of the escape that was taking place. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his head out into the open air and was immediately met with a rushing blast of freezing and thick air. Shifting back, he brought his forelegs through the window and gripped the top of the train car. Placing his back legs on the window sill, he pulled himself onto the rushing carriage roof, the entire act feeling like a trance. The speed of the train blocked out any outlying sound he could detect, the blowing wind and rumbling metal wheels the only things that registered through his ears. He hugged the top of the rectangular metallic roof and rejoiced at the fact that a light barrier around the car, no more than five inches high, formed an outline around the car, giving him some sort of support to rest on. Shaking his head, Jam looked around to see if any of his friends where still nearby or passed onto parts unknown. Feeling a hoof tap against his shoulder, he spun around on his flank at the smiling Commodore and Alistair who sat right behind him. He tried to yell something at them, but the very words he spoke were ripped from his mouth and thrown out off the train. Pointing towards the front of the train, he mimed a crawling motion on the car. Nodding in agreement, they gestured for Jam to lead on. Whispering a silent prayer of hope to himself, Jam squatted down onto his belly, the cold metal floor singing his furry torso. Fashioning his hind legs and fore legs into an army crawl, Jam wiggled along the car top before moving onto the succeeding car. Following his example, Alistair and Commodore did the same, slithering along the train cars at an impressive pace. Before long the three friends would be at the front, and freedom would almost be in their grasp ----------------------------- Agent Five slowly strutted down the passenger car aisle, his mind numbed out by the sheer boredom of his patrol. The disinterested look on his face was only complimented by his dragging hooves on the carpet and tuneless hum he kept. Fiddling with the saddlebag on his side, he checked for the twelfth that his baton and stun pellets where snuggly tucked inside. “Like I’ll ever need to use them,” he mumbled lowly. Approaching the last passenger car, he slid the connecting door open and was immediately met with a cold chill and a screeching howl of wind. Snapping into readiness, Agent Five immediately scanned the entire car for any outstanding abnormalities. Seeing what it was, he sighed, disappointed that no real trouble was ahoof. He walked over to the open passenger window and pushed the wooden slide down. Locking the latch in place, he stared at the now closed window for a moment. The entire thing seemed like nothing, a minor occurrence which could stand for several explanations over what had caused it. But then again…he wanted to be sure. Moving to the car control box, he unlocked it and quickly pressed the red radio button. Waiting a moment for a response, he was greeted by Agent Press. “Yes?” crackled her voice through the device. “What’s the problem?” Agent Five paused a moment, reciting in his head what he’d exactly say to the vile witch that outranked him. “Ma’am, I’ve seemed to have come across an open window back here in the rear-most car. How should I proceed?” “Hmmm,” she contemplated aloud, “continue your patrol as normal. I will deal with this disturbance myself.” He opened his mouth to respond, but the line quickly clicked off on her end. Roughly closing the box, he folded his hoofs in contempt and briskly walked out of the car, not giving a second glance at the metal box that seemed to represent the most dislikeable mare he’d ever known. “A nice ‘good-bye’ would have worked fine you sorry little slime!” he yelled aloud in car, wishing the witch was in earshot. ----------------------------- The three friends continued to crawl along the train top, distance that would have seemed impossible to sneak through being traversed in record time. The closer they approached the front locomotive, the louder the engine screamed and the more pungent the odor of burning coal became. The wind seemed to have also picked up in velocity, the friends needing to duck their heads down just to prevent their eyes from watering instantaneously. As they moved across the last passenger car, Jam felt a finger tap against his shoulder. Turning around slowly, his eyes met with Alistair’s who made a down motion with his pointer finger, signaling to get back inside the train. Shrugging his shoulders, Jam had no idea how a feat like that could be preformed on top of a speeding train. Understanding this, Alistair scooted over to the left side of the car and reached his left arm down. A magical blue aura appearing his hand, he willed a window open with a slight motion downwards and an intense focus about him. Turning back to the staring Jam, he jokingly gestured down with both hands, making a deadly climb off a train feel like a welcoming entrance of fun. ----------------------------- Shale Press knew precisely what was going on, and if her predictions were correct, she knew precisely where the human was heading. Galloping down train car after train car, she breathed lowly to prepare herself of what was to come next. She knew the little whelp wouldn’t go quietly, and despite the knowledge that she could easily pummel the sapient once again, avoiding any more electricity burns would be at a higher priority. Approaching the last passenger car before reaching the front locomotive, she stopped just short of the door. Peering through the glass center window, she waited for her enemy’s arrival. ----------------------------- “Just a bit more Jam,” encouraged Commodore with a yell. “You’re almost there.” Jam stood frozen on top of the window sill, his hind legs stuck along its top while his other half still hung on tightly to the top of the train. They couldn’t see his face on account of it still being outside the train, but Commodore and Alistair assumed it was in a state of terror. “You can do it!” added Alistair optimistically. “Just a bit more.” Jam didn’t respond, probably not able to hear them where he stood. Commodore turned to Alistair. “You think we should do it?” Alistair nodded. “It’s the only thing we can do.” Commodore nodded in agreement and approached Jam dually with Alistair at his side. Taking position right at Jam’s legs, they stood in preparation of what was to come. “On the count of ten…” whispered Commodore, “we yank him.” Alistair nodded.” “One…two…three…ten!” Commodore and Alistair quickly reached forward and savagely grabbed Jam’s legs and waist. Pulling fiercely, the pried him from his vantage point and dragged him through the window. Tossing him on the ground, they rushed forward, and slammed the window shut victoriously and, tightening the latch as much as their strength allowed. “Teamwork!” they yelled in unison as they high hoofed/fived. “Ughh…” moaned Jam on the floor. “I think I hit my head…” “Come on there dude…” said Commodore as he helped him to his feet. “We still got plenty to do.” Alistair nodded and began to peer around the odd room they found themselves in. “Hey guys…does this place looks…off to you too?” Jam and Commodore walked up beside him. “I think I see what you mean,” said Commodore. The car they stood in was none other than the first-class cabin car. Large red leather couches sat against the sides while fancy oak divides between the spaces separated the couches into their own little rooms. An aged green rug went up down the aisle and crossed into the rooms like a slimy pathway. But the practical upscale décor fit horribly offset with some recent additions to the landscape. Large crates of swords and metal spheres set haphazardly around the cabin with large standing gas cylinders propped against the walls. A blueprint of the train was folded out along the center of the room with a clipboard of several papers next to it. “I think we found their nest,” commented Alistair as he walked over to the blueprint. Commodore looked around. “These ponies, whoever they are…they’re well equipped.” “More than most Royal Guard battalions,” added Jam. Alistair looked down at the blue print and carefully examined the markings across it. Control box locations where circled, exits highlighted, and certain window positions were marked with arrows. Turning away from the diagram, he picked up the clipboard beside it. “Guys,” said Alistair as he walked over to them. “Look what I found.” “What is it?” asked Commodore. “Some sort of shipping manifest. It has all this weird technical jargon in it but it clearly marks all the stops and starts the train’s made so far.” “Does it tell anything else?” “Hmmmm,” said Alistair as he squinted down at the page. “It says that their transporting fruit--” Jam rolled his eyes. “Yeah right, swords and asparagus are the same thing.” “But it says something else…” Alistair flipped through some of the pages. “It has its next stop marked. Somewhere around--” “Hold it right their,” said a calm and feminine voice from behind them. “Drop the manifest and turn around or I’ll gut you myself.” Alistair dropped the manifest to the floor and raised his hands above his head. Turning around slowly, he was not surprised to find that the voice behind him belonged to none other than the slippery snake of a mare, Shale Press.